That Bit in the Middle
by Mytay
Summary: Summer brings restlessness/depression to Kurt, who believes the new friendships forged by Glee are now over. When he goes off alone to think – without telling anyone – his absence sets off alarm bells. Everyone reunites and summer finally, truly begins.
1. Chapter 1

**That Bit in the Middle**

**By:** Mytay

**Rating:** K+ (or PG, I suppose)

**Summary:** Summer brings restlessness and depression to Kurt, who believes the new friendships forged by Glee are now over. When he goes out for a random bit of soul-searching – without telling anyone, and without his phone – he works things out for himself, and his absence works things out with the gleeks.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor claim to own, anything Glee related.

**Note: **Some light Glee-club bonding for the summer months – and hopefully something we will see more of in the coming season. *crosses fingers*

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"_Life only really has one beginning and one end, and the rest is just a whole lot of middle."_ - Will Schuester, _Journey_

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Chapter 1**

Kurt had no idea, no expectations, as to what would happen once Regionals were over and school was out for the summer. He hadn't thought that far ahead and he didn't think anyone else had either. It was like they were living in a state of perpetual tension and teen drama – Regionals always around the corner, but never coming. Quinn forever pregnant, never giving birth.

But then they appeared to hit a no-speed limit highway: Jesse came and went, and egged Rachel, and screwed them over, and the Cheerios won nationals and on and on.

Regionals was over, baby Beth was out in the world and adopted, summer holidays were past started, and Kurt, quite suddenly, had no clue as to what to do with himself.

Well, that was a lie. There were plenty of summer activities (lounging by the pool, spontaneous trips to the mall at all hours of the day, late night movie and TV show marathons . . . and further indulging his new hobby of twirling sai swords in his basement) to be explored. It was what he'd spent last summer doing, while helping out at the garage on alternating days. That and designing a whole new line of clothes for the pale and petit, as well as the dark and bootilicious set, which he mailed to design schools and companies.

The replies he received in return were always interesting, usually along the lines of, 'Thank you, but we're not interested as of now,' which Kurt always interpreted as, 'Hmm, were you not in a high school in a random nowhere town, we might be interested – find us after you graduate.' He was _totally_ in. Between Broadway and fashion design, he was going to be a household name by the age of twenty-five.

However, future plans aside, he was feeling rather unenthusiastic about the whole summer thing because he felt there should be _more_.

But he wasn't holding out too much hope that that '_more_' would involve the tenuous new friendships developed this past year. Mostly because Kurt was skeptical of all things, and even being on the Cheerios hadn't cured him of an innate cynicism for the world at large. If anything, Sue Sylvester had cultivated it and sharpened it into a weapon.

He wished that he could just pick up the phone and call Brittany or even Santana, and say to meet him at the corner pharmacy to head out for a movie, or for a non-fat frappuccino . . . but he knew that that was very likely _not_ to happen. He wanted to head over and have a Molly Ringwald movie marathon with Mercedes and Quinn, like they did the first weekend after the former head cheerleader had moved in . . . but obviously that situation had changed. He craved to just hang out in some random location with everyone and jam like they did before rehearsals and practises, but didn't indulge in too much longing for that either.

He was missing school, for whatever insane reason, and it was only a week out. He was missing Glee about a hundred times more. And he was missing his fellow gleeks a highly embarrassing amount. He was in a _funk_ (and after 'funk' week he had sworn to never use the word again, which only proved how thoroughly depressed he was). He'd been going on walks and drives, and even _jogging_ (his least favourite form of exercise) to eat up time, and really, it was so unlike him that it was making him feel even more lethargic and unhappy. _Gah, when did I get so unbelievably _emo_?_

"Hey, Kurt –"

"Geez!" Kurt jumped high enough off his bed to very nearly go crashing into the floor.

"Sorry!" Finn apologized as he clomped down the stairs. "I just wanted to tell you I'm heading out with the guys to shoot some hoops and –"

"Yes, I know." Kurt settled himself into a sitting position, leaning back and crossing his legs. "And I so appreciate this unnecessary update, especially considering that this is what you have been doing _every day_ for the past week after work."

Finn had kept his job at Sheets N' Things for the summer, working short morning shifts, until no later than two in the afternoon. Which was why Kurt wasn't expecting anyone to be home – it was only just past noon. He watched moodily as Finn stuffed his smock in the hamper and grabbed a water bottle out of Kurt's mini-fridge.

"Yeah, sorry," Finn said with a dopey grin, completely missing the biting sarcasm. "But this time Rachel is coming to watch, and I was wondering if you wanted to come too."

It was a good thing Kurt was pretty much over Finn, because this particular invitation might have stung otherwise. But after some soul searching, and some truth-telling, things were finally more or less good between the two of them, and he could honestly count Finn as a friend. There was a little residual warmth whenever Finn smiled his way but as it was, Kurt couldn't bring himself to feel much over it this time. He shook his head. "No, I was planning on calling Mercedes, maybe heading over to the mall for the day. You run along and have fun now."

Finn did just that with a happy wave good-bye and Kurt sighed. With the exception of Finn hanging out with Rachel, things had pretty much slipped into their pre-Glee state and that left Kurt feeling rather _dejected_. And _bored_. And _useless_.

He got up and grabbed his keys. He decided he needed one more drive – maybe far away – but this time, instead of wallowing in the silence of his own head, he'd blast some show tunes and force himself out of this emotional rut. He had two whole months of summer to enjoy and he was not going to allow this stupid _funk_ to ruin that.

In his rush to thwart his bad mood, he realized, once behind the wheel of his SUV and well on his way, he had left behind his phone. He briefly thought about going back, but concluded that no one would miss him for a couple of hours.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Mercedes had been expecting Kurt to call her, and when he didn't, it bothered her. For the past week, Kurt had been acting less than his usual adorably haughty self, and man, did it make for some depressing shopping trips – which was like a total contradiction of terms, because a shopping Kurt was a _happy_ Kurt – but even more worrying was that he'd bowed out from those same shopping trips at least twice, saying he was going for a jog or a walk, or whatever, which, _exercising_ over accessorizing? _So_ not like her favourite fashionista.

She sent him a quick text and waited for about ten minutes, after which, when there was no reply, she called.

It rang, and rang, and _rang_.

Now, there really was no reason to be freaked out. Her boy wasn't the type to do anything reckless or stupid; he had no seriously dangerous habits, because anything that could mess with his lily-white complexion was a no-no. So, why the hell would Mercedes be worried? At worst, Kurt was sitting in his room, moping about like he had been for the past week, his phone on silent, so he could be tragically alone without interruption.

Right.

Which was why she was currently dialling Finn Hudson's number. She took a second to marvel, not for the first time, at the names on her contact list. Half of them were jocks and cheerleaders – including her favourite boy – who the hell would've thought? Then she contemplated the many ways she was going to kick Kurt's ass if he was bitching and moaning to himself in his basement pad while his best friend waited – _not worried_ – for his phone call. It would be a shame, because while Mercedes was over her brief, albeit intense crush on the boy, even she could admit his ass cut a fine figure in the tight jeans he liked to wear.

"Hello?" came not the voice of Finn, but of his new petite girlfriend.

"Rachel?"

"Mercedes! Hello! It has been _too_ long!"

"It's been three days. I saw you at the supermarket on the weekend."

"But we haven't sung together in over two weeks and that is how I measure the –"

"Uh huh, I guess I miss ya too, Berrylicious Diva." She smiled because she was telling truth – she had missed Rachel. "But listen, are you over at Finn and Kurt's place?"

"No, I'm watching Finn, Noah, Matt and Mike play basketball at the park."

"Kurt ain't there, is he?"

"Finn mentioned inviting him, but he said Kurt was going out with you. Why? What's going on?"

Mercedes sighed as Rachel's voice got faster and higher pitched. "Nothin' to worry your Barbara Streisand-loving head about, just lemme –"

"But you're worried, or else why would you call?"

"I'm _not_, just wondering why my boy isn't answering his phone and –"

"Kurt's not answering his phone? Have you tried calling the house line? Oh my God, this is like the beginning of those cop dramas, when no one's seen the person for days, and then, the next thing you know, the detectives are ducking under crime scene tape and –"

Mercedes snapped, "Rachel, shut up!" Okay, _now_ she was maybe a _little_ worried. She reached for her cordless, dialling Kurt's house by memory, and waited, each ring setting her heart pounding faster.

"Guys, guys!" She could hear Rachel calling to the boys, and she opened her mouth to tell her to shut up again but no one was answering the house line. Her baby had been acting so damn weird these past few days, and _oh God_, Rachel was right, this was totally how every episode of _Law and Order_ began.

"Guys, we have to go! Kurt's _missing_!"

Well, that was bit too early to call, but before Mercedes knew it, she heard the sounds of a phone being fumbled with, and Finn's voice coming down the line, concerned, but not nearly as frantic as Rachel. "Uh, what do you mean Kurt's missing?"

Mercedes hung up the phone that had been ringing endlessly at Kurt's house, and replied tensely, "Listen, Finn, it's not a big deal – Kurt and I were supposed to go out and do something today, but –"

"He's been kinda down lately, but I figured that had to with his Dad working overtime at the garage. Maybe he's going through something –"

"Or maybe he's just being an idiot and not turning his phone on," Mercedes said, exasperated with both herself and the crazies on the phone who seemed determined to turn this into some huge drama.

"Maybe I should head home –"

She could hear Rachel agreeing enthusiastically in the background, some low grumbling that could've been the other guys, and now Mike was on the line. "Hey Mercedes, Matt and I are gonna check out the school, see if maybe he broke into the auditorium to get his glee on or something, and Finn says he's going to head home. You just keep trying to call him, okay?"

The phone was handed back to Finn before Mercedes could say anything. "Thanks for the heads up, Mercedes – Puck's going to call the other Glee people, see if they've heard from Kurt. Text us if you find him."

He hung up.

Mercedes stared at the phone. It had been less than ten minutes since she'd called Kurt and now she was in the middle of an eleven person search and rescue squad, for someone who may not even need rescuing, and had only been out of contact with the outside world for about an hour, tops.

She sighed, sending Kurt a semi-apologetic (but also frustrated) text, explaining the situation. And then she called him again.

Because she wasn't worried, _damn it._

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Kurt rolled down his windows once he reached a completely empty stretch of country forest road, and belted out _All That Jazz_ from _Chicago_, with great and unparalleled gusto.

With the fresh, crisp air filling his lungs, the steady thrum of his baby's powerful engine underscoring his Best of Broadway playlist, and no one to see the windblown mess that was his hair, _this_, right here, was possibly one of the most freeing experiences of his life.

Which would be when the deer leapt into his path.

"Oh my GOD!" He swerved, hit the brakes, and kept his hands on the wheel, doing his level best to make sure he hit neither the deer, nor the tall, thick-trunked trees that lined the road. He came to a screeching halt a foot short of the frozen animal, and everything was abruptly quiet. The frantic motions had knocked his iPod out of its jack; all he could hear was the faint hum of his sound system and the wind rustling through the leaves.

His own breathing was stilted and irregular, and _holy crap_ that had been really, really frightening.

He and the deer stared at each other for a lengthy, creepy amount of time, and when the animal turned to go back to the woods, it was with an unhurried gait. He waited until the deer had disappeared into the trees before turning his engine back on, pulling off the road and yanking his keys out of the ignition. They jangled impossibly loud in his trembling grip as he dropped them into his cup holder. He leaned against the steering wheel, clenching it tightly, trying to still his shuddering limbs.

That had been far too close.

Kurt sat up, heart still thrumming, and climbed out of the car. A spilt second before he slammed the door shut, he remembered to grab his keys and shove them in his jeans' pocket. The soft sounds of the forest reached him, and he tried to focus on that, rather than his near-death experience. He walked a bit into the tree line, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes. _Okay, breathe. You're fine, your baby's fine. It wasn't that bad – it really wasn't. Okay._ A quiet rushing sound filled his ears, and his lids flickered open, eyes narrowing as he peered between the thick trunks.

It sounded a bit like a stream. He smiled without knowing why. It was soothing and sweet, and he relaxed a little, feeling the tension leave him, and the adrenaline that he was still a bit high on, beginning to dissipate. He braced himself, back first, against a tree, stretching his legs out, eyes fluttering shut again, breathing in and trying to exhale what was left of his fear. His hands rested lightly on his thighs, and he wondered vaguely how close that stream, or river, was.

He didn't know why this interested him, or . . . wait. He blinked, focusing on the ground, but he wasn't seeing the tangled grass at his feet. He was seeing wet stones, and moss . . . It came to him in bits and pieces, but he remembered . . .

_"Careful, Kurt, don't get so close to the edge!"_

_"Oh, relax Burt, he's fine. And he swims like a fish."_

_"I know but – Kurt, Kurt!"_

He'd been six, or maybe seven, and they had been out for a weekend camping trip; he'd wandered into the rushing stream, the water deeper than he was tall, and the current surprised him. His mother had been right – he was a good swimmer, and after he had gotten over the initial shock of cold, he managed to get to the other side, coughing and shivering, but otherwise fine. His father reached him less than a second later and he'd looked angry – for all of a moment. Then he just bundled Kurt up in his arms and strictly instructed him not to do that _ever_ again, that he wasn't to swim unless either his dad or mom was in the water with him.

Kurt didn't know why this particular memory was affecting him so much but . . . out of the blue, he very much wanted to find this stream he could hear, even though this forest was nowhere near their old camping ground.

He glanced back towards his SUV, and then took some time to contemplate this randomness.

A breeze ruffled his hair, whispering along one side of his face. With no clear rhyme or reason . . . he turned back towards the sea of green, and walked into it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note:** Right, so, this story is mostly done - I'm just working on the last bit - I think it'll be about four chapters total. Work and friends are dominating my time at the moment, but I'll try to get the next chapter up before the weekend.

Hope you all enjoyed! Reviews and critiques are always welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It had been almost three hours since Puck had recruited the other gleeks to start looking for Kurt in both the usual and unusual places – Mercedes had sent Kurt about fifteen texts by this point, each one expressing her increasing annoyance (and anxiousness, _damn_ him) over her stupid-ass boy's disappearing act. As soon as Finn had arrived at home, he had reported that the SUV was gone, which meant that Kurt could be anywhere.

He also informed her that Kurt's phone was currently lying, forgotten, on his vanity.

Mercedes had long since decided that, cute ass or not, Kurt was going to get the crap beat out of him when she found him.

She came to realize that if she waited around her house any longer, Mercedes was going to go insane and kill the first person that even slightly annoyed her. She found herself missing Quinn's quiet, reassuring presence – but the girl had moved back in with her mom after Beth was born, and while she e-mailed a couple of times a week to let Mercedes know she was okay, she still missed having the blonde around.

She didn't completely trust Quinn's mother yet either, but that was an issue for another day.

She missioned over to Kurt's house, letting Finn know she was on her way with a short text. Her parents had the car, since they were at work, so she walked. It was a twenty minute journey, and she spent it checking her phone every five seconds, nearly colliding with several light posts and a few fences as she read the back and forth texts from the search party.

Some twenty five minutes after Mercedes marched out her front door, she and Finn were fluttering around the Hummel-now-also-Hudson kitchen, demolishing Kurt's supply of sugar free sodas (mainly _Fresca_ and Diet Coke), each taking calls as gleek after gleek reported that no, they couldn't find Kurt anywhere around town, and really, Lima was not a big place – therefore it was likely Kurt wasn't even _in_ town.

"Oh man," Finn moaned out, hair a mess from constantly running his hands through it, which he did again for about the millionth time. "Kurt is still AWOL, and Burt's going to be home from the garage in an hour and a half – what're we going to do?"

"We aren't going to do anything," Mercedes insisted. "Freaked out as I am," and she had to admit that she was, even though she knew it wasn't rational, "it's only been a few hours, and Kurt's been going for walks and drives for a week now, so this is totally –"

"Why didn't he just take his damn phone," Finn cried out, frustrated. "Nobody forgets their phone anymore – it's like an extra hand or something."

Mercedes forced calm into her tone in an effort to relax herself as well as Finn. "Like, a decade or two ago, before Blackberrys and iPhones and stuff, people weren't constantly hooked up to their phones like we are now – and they managed just fine, so –"

One of their cells rang, and they both dove for the kitchen table simultaneously, grabbing a random cell and pressing the talk button.

"Hello?!"

"What?!"

"Finn, give Jones the damn phone!"

Mercedes could hear Santana's barking from across the table, and stuck her hand out for her cell.

"Talk to me," she said as soon as she had it.

"Britt, Matt and I just stopped by the hospital – they haven't heard of any accidents, and no one new has been admitted for a couple of days. So, Kurt's not here."

Mercedes closed her eyes, hanging her head. She was relieved Kurt wasn't passed out in a hospital bed but at the same time, this _not-knowing_ thing was really killing her. "Okay. Finn's going to text the others –"

The boy in question grabbed his own phone from Mercedes, and was poised, ready to text on demand.

"And let them know to start heading back. Puck and Quinn must be halfway to Columbus by now, and if they haven't found him, then, I guess they can head home. And everyone else too."

She heard some loud scoffing over the line. "Right. We're coming to you."

Mercedes did a double-take, even though Santana wasn't there to see it. "What?"

"Do you think any one of us is going to be able to go home and chill, knowing baby Hummel is probably lying in a ditch somewhere? No thanks. And if we're all together, the faster we can run to a hospital when we _do_ get a phone call."

Mercedes desperately smacked down the panic she felt at Santana's words, and focused on the _insanity_ instead. Wasn't this the same cheerleader that had habitually verbally cut her up in the hallways last year? The same one she nearly got into a catfight with over Puck?

The one who agreed to let Kurt do her make up before shows because he had the steadiest hands, and the one who helped Mercedes and Brittany with their hair.

This was probably her thousandth time thinking it, but _man, has life gotten weird or what?_

"Right. Okay. See you in a bit."

Finn had sent the text as soon as he heard Santana's voice, loud enough to overhear clearly from his side of the table. By the time Mercedes hung up, Finn's phone was vibrating, and he glanced at the screen, sprawling his giant self down onto one of the kitchen chairs. "It's Rachel and Mike – they're on their way from the mall. They're bringing pizza."

Mercedes sat down in the chair across from his, leaning over the table and putting her head down onto her folded arms. There was a lengthy silence. Finn's phone vibrated at some point – Mercedes couldn't be bothered to check the time.

"Puck and Quinn are about an hour away," is all Finn said, and the silence draped over them again.

Tina and Artie texted Mercedes next, and she read the text out loud to Finn. "Not at the movies, the parks, or the Y – we're bringing the drinks."

Mercedes shut her eyes. This all felt unreal – like, just because they couldn't contact Kurt, didn't automatically mean her best friend was bleeding out on the concrete somewhere, right? He went for a drive and, sure, it'd been almost four hours now, but really, if Kurt was lost in his own head, he was probably completely oblivious to the time and was turning to drive back right now. It would take a while for him to get home, so having a panic attack about it was incredibly stupid.

This whole thing was incredibly stupid. Mercedes had no clue how it all even got so out of control – but she knew that the only thing that would set things right was Kurt – a phone call, a text, any indication that he was fine would do. Even better if would just pull up in the driveway _right now_.

But when a car did pull up sometime later, it was Tina driving Artie's van, Artie sitting in back with drinks.

Pretty soon, they were all sipping regular Coke, Diet, or grape soda. After the exchange of 'hey's, they all settled around the table, Tina planted in Artie's lap, clutching his hand in her own. Not ten minutes later, Rachel, Mike, Santana, Brittany and Matt arrived simultaneously, bearing five boxes pizza.

"There's a gross vegan thing for Rachel in there," Matt explained, setting a slightly smaller box aside. "Everything else has, uh, _everything_ on it."

Mercedes grabbed a slice of Meat-Lover's pizza, and everyone took turns grabbing food. Santana and Mike dragged in a few more chairs from the dining room so everyone could have a seat. Rachel pulled her box to Finn's side of the table, sliding a chair over to sit in, snuggling close. Mercedes could see Finn relaxing a little as he put an arm around Rachel. For some reason, the sight made her miss Kurt even more desperately – and not just right this second, worrying about where the hell he could be, but for this entire past week. He just hadn't been acting like himself, and she _missed_ her superior-acting, sharp-tongued best friend.

No one said anything for a long while. Mercedes got fed up with the tense silence, turning to ask Tina, "How'd you guys get the van from Mr. Abrams?"

Tina shrugged. "It was no big deal – just said we wanted to spend the day together, maybe have a late night at Kurt's" – there was a slight flinch around the room – "and he just let me drive it."

"My dad loves her," Artie stated, more than a little proudly. "She can actually parallel park the thing without touching the other cars – something neither he nor my mom can do. I think he's considering paying her to be my chauffeur."

"And there's plenty of room in the back for making out," Finn chimed in, with a corny grin. There was muted laughter as Tina threw a wadded napkin at him, while Artie sent them all a quick wink behind her back.

"But," Tina continued, elbowing Artie lightly, "he doesn't know anything, and don't you guys think we should tell someone in a position to help?"

"I think it's high time we contacted the police," Rachel announced, and Mercedes was mildly entertained to see that the tiny girl had already put away two slices of pizza and was working on a third. "Kurt's been missing for –"

"Just over five hours," Santana stated plainly. "No cop in the world is gonna do anything. Just because we know this is weird for Hummel doesn't mean they're going to believe us and call the FBI in."

Mercedes chewed on her lower lip, refusing to entertain any thoughts about Kurt that involved the _police_.

"And, uh, as much as I'm starting to freak out too, Rach," Finn said haltingly, wincing at the sharp glare his girlfriend shot him. "I really don't want to be worrying Burt, or my mom, until we're pretty sure he's not just out driving around. Which he could totally be doing. I mean, just because we can't _reach_ him –"

Mercedes nodded as Finn used her own words to try and calm everybody down. "Right, just because he's off the grid, doesn't mean he's in trouble, or whatever –"

"Then why the hell are we all here, acting like his mother?" Santana bitched, moodily tearing a piece of her pizza into her mouth like a lion ripping into a fallen gazelle.

Mercedes winced, as she always did at any mention, off-hand though it may be, of Kurt's mom. And she noticed Finn have a similar reaction. Things got uncomfortable for a minute, before Rachel piped up again, "We're here because Finn and Mercedes are worried – Kurt's been acting strange for the past week, right guys?"

Mercedes gave Finn an accusing glance, because talking about Kurt's personal business with his semi-rival was _not_ cool. Finn just gave her a half shrug, "What? He has been! And you've been noticing it too! He barely smiles anymore, and he keeps going out to walk or drive around – or jog! As in, exercise that _doesn't_ involve singing or dancing! And when he's at the garage with his dad, he doesn't even try to put up a fight when it comes to who's iPod they're going to listen to all day."

She felt her eyes widen. "So _that's_ why he's been humming that Mellencamp dude all the damn time!"

Rachel nodded along to all of this, a satisfied look on her face. "See! There's something _wrong_! And how long does he usually go out for, Finn, when he decides to drive or walk?"

Finn shifted uncomfortably as all eyes rested on him. "Usually no more than a couple of hours – and he always brings his phone, especially if he's going out at night. He hates to worry his dad."

Mercedes slumped further in her seat as the evidence stacked up against Kurt being okay, resigning herself to being hugely freaked out until her boy was home safe.

"Maybe Rachel's right – maybe we should at least tell Kurt's dad," Matt said quietly.

"Maybe – but I think waiting for a little while longer might be in order. Santana made a good point." Artie sighed, giving Mercedes a sympathetic smile. "I don't think we should all-out panic just yet. This mild sort of hysteria is good until we have a better idea of what's going on. Or, you know, until Kurt gets back here and makes us all look like paranoid freaks."

Which was when the phone rang. Finn and Mercedes reflexively grabbed their cell phones, even though it was clearly not either of their ring tones sounding throughout the house. Rachel was up and snatching the cordless phone off the cradle in the wall before anyone could blink. "Hello? Kurt?" The girl's mouth dropped open into an 'o', and she swallowed. "Oh, hello Mr. Hummel . . . Yes, it's Rachel . . . Well, there's something – "

Mercedes and Finn re-enacted their dives from earlier, trying to snatch the phone from Rachel. Finn managed to do it with little effort, though Mercedes figured it helped that she had managed to pin Rachel to the wall. The pint-sized diva gave them all a plaintive look. "I'm just trying to help," she said softly and sincerely.

Mercedes let her go. "I know, Berrylicious. But I'm with Artie on this. I don't think freakin' Kurt's dad out is the right decision. Yet." She grabbed Rachel's hand and squeezed, giving her a smile, which the other girl returned tentatively, squeezing her hand back.

"I, ah, I like that nickname, by the way," Rachel whispered.

Mercedes gave her a gentle shoulder bump. "Yeah, well, when you ain't bugging me, I'll use it. Like today."

The girl flashed her a full, bright Rachel Berry show-smile at that. _Wow_, bonding with Rachel – she could already see the looks Kurt was going to give her. Well, the boy would just have to suck it up – he and Rachel could probably move on from this sort-of-truce they had going on, and get to be friends if they both got over themselves a little. Mercedes smiled fondly as she remembered how pissed off Kurt was when those jackasses from Vocal Adrenaline egged Rachel.

"Yeah, hi, Burt – yes, Rachel's over . . . and uh, a few other people too – we're just havin' some pizza."

Everyone froze, listening in on the conversation, some with pizza halfway to their mouths, others clutching their drinks in tight grips. Rachel's smile fell and she gave Mercedes' hand one last squeeze before returning to her boyfriend's side. Mercedes sighed, feeling her own mood drop right back down again.

The doorbell rang and Mike, closest to the hallway, jumped up to get it. A minute later, Puck and Quinn were walking into the kitchen, looking a little confused as people gestured with raised fingers for them to be quiet.

"Yeah, yeah . . . that's cool." Finn's voice kept getting higher, cracking all over the place. Mercedes wished she had been the one to snatch the phone from Rachel. She gave Finn some hand signals, roughly translating into, _'What's the deal?'_

He looked over at them all. "Well, yeah, I think it's a great idea to surprise mom at work. You guys have fun at your dinner. Yeah . . . uh, Kurt's gone for a drive again, but I'm sure he'll be back soon. Right . . . okay, yeah. See ya later."

Finn hung up, staring at the phone in his hands before looking up towards everyone else. "Listen – Artie and Santana have it right. I think . . . I mean, it isn't dark yet. My mom and Burt are going out to dinner and they'll be back by around nine or ten. If Kurt isn't home by then, I guess that makes it official. Right?"

Mercedes nodded. "Sounds good to me." Well, _not really_ – Kurt being officially missing? Not good. Her stomach twisted brutally at the very thought of it.

"So, wait, we aren't contacting any authorities?" Quinn broke in, frowning. "Puck and I were expecting Kurt to be home by the time we got here, and if you still haven't even _heard_ from him –"

"We know," Mercedes said tiredly. She was sick of this. "But it's not like we can call him . . . missing, until it's been at least twenty four hours or something. And the Amber Alert only applies to kids that are abducted. Kurt's taken off in his car. We don't know if . . . point being, they'll call him a runaway and that'll be that, unless he's gone for a while longer."

Puck fell into a chair, rubbing his eyes wearily after long hours of driving pointlessly around. "How do you know so much about it?"

"In freshman year, I spent the entire week after I got my tonsils out, watching re-runs of America's Most Wanted." Come to think of it, that was probably why she was so easily freaked out by things like this, she mused absently.

Puck accepted that answer, and reached for a slice of pizza, offering one to Quinn first as he pulled out the chair next to him for her to sit on. Mercedes felt her eyebrows climb up her forehead – Puck was never that gentlemanly. Unless he wanted in someone's pants. But even then, he was pretty obvious about that being his end game. This seemed . . . Quinn gave Puck a head shake, and a quick but sweet smile.

Wasn't this day just chock full of surprises? Quinn hadn't mentioned _that_ at school, or in her e-mails. She really needed to have a sit down with the other girl.

"So, basically, we're all going to sit around here, and stare at each other, until we hear something?" Artie asked rhetorically. "Somehow, I feel like there's something else we could be doing."

Rachel opened her mouth, but before she could utter even one syllable, Santana was up and scowling. "If you say anything that uses the words 'rehearsal', or 'next year's sectionals', I will cram that last slice of Meat Lover's down your throat, Berry."

Rachel recoiled, pouting at Finn. Finn took one look at the still seething Santana, and shrugged helplessly at his girlfriend. Mercedes hid a grin – _smart boy_.

Brittany leaned over to grab that last slice Santana was talking about. "I hope Kurt's okay – I really wanted to try and make out with him at least one more time. He's a good kisser. Like, in my top ten."

There were a variety of reactions to that blithely made statement. Mercedes really wished she was in the mood to take a picture – from Finn, Matt and Mike's flabbergasted expressions, to Puck's affronted one, to Santana's freaky thoughtful look, and Rachel's brows knitted in confusion, it would've made for a great desktop. With Brittany's words in a bright pink, sparkly banner underneath. Kurt would either find it highly amusing, or highly embarrassing. She wasn't sure which. But she was tempted to find a way to figure out if Brittany's observation was true – and considering that the blonde had now made out with the whole damn school, it probably was the God's honest truth. Damn it.

"Well," Mercedes announced, causing a few people to jump. "Everyone put their phones as loud as they can – I'm going to go downstairs and blare some music on Kurt's awesome sound system, y'all are welcome to join me."

She stood up, and the girls stood up along with her.

"I'm going to do the video game thing." Finn glanced over the boys, smiling shyly at their resident goth. "And uh, I know you kick ass at _Halo_, Tina, did you wanna come play – be on my team?"

Artie threw a napkin at Finn. "Dude, she's _my _girlfriend – she's going to be on my team!"

"I am not to be claimed or bartered over!" Tina declared dramatically. "I'm going to be on my own team – and kick both your asses! And not just at _Halo_. Break out the _Grand Theft Auto_ and_ Left for Dead_ while you're at it, Hudson. You and Abrams are so going down."

Puck let loose a chuckle, eyebrows raised. "Go Goth Chick. I need to see this."

Mercedes (keeping her own mad skills at Left for Dead to herself) smiled, watching the boys follow Finn and Tina into his room. She headed downstairs with the rest of the girls, who were loudly debating what to listen to. It would've been their usual brand of normal-weirdness, except for the fact that everyone kept a firm grip on his or her phone. And that their smiles were a bit too sharp and bright to be real. And that this was Kurt's house – but there was no Kurt in it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note: **There's a crazy weekend and a crazy work week ahead of me, so I don't know when I'll be able to post next - but I'm definitely aiming for sometime next week, as soon as I get a moment to breathe. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kurt was careful, because he hadn't totally lost it – this was random, and didn't really make that much sense to him, but he knew he had to keep a somewhat rational head. As he ventured further into the woods, he made small pyramids of stones and sticks every five or six yards, near the base of trees that had no bushes or tall grass surrounding them, to serve as his own bread crumb trail for later. But he also kept heading towards the sound of rushing water single-mindedly.

Golden rays of sunshine were piercing through the leaves here and there, and it was incredible how removed from everything he felt: all secluded, in the middle of a forest, and chasing a stream.

Well, he wasn't going to even _try_ and explain this to Mercedes when she demanded to know why he blew her off today. He'd make up a story about a flat tire. Maybe throw in the deer thing. That was sure to get him a few sympathy points. He hoped she just didn't go with the 'bitch-slap first, ask questions later, then bitch-slap again' approach, which was her usual _modus operandi_ . . . except when she decided to mix things up and put holes in other people's windshields.

He had promised never to mention it again (and never did, because Mercedes was his best girl and, except for that one occasion, that temper of hers was usually wielded on his behalf), but it had been a scarring experience. And a well-learned lesson: _do not break a girl's heart unless heavily armoured and at a certain distance from your expensive vehicle_.

Kurt was supremely grateful that he was wearing an older pair of running shoes and the jeans with tears that were only _just _this side of fashionable – though after this hike through the woods, they were probably no longer fashionably ripped, so much as 'grunge' and . . . he would keep them. Bury them in the back of his closet, maybe, but they were so damn comfortable that even he, Kurt Hummel, had to concede that a perfectly comfy pair of well-worn Levis trumped fashion any day.

He wound his way around a thick trunk, taking a moment to stare up and marvel at how huge this tree was – and was caught off guard when he stumbled into his sought-after stream.

He blinked in the sudden, direct sunshine, and immediately jumped back a step before his muddied shoes could get soaked.

The clear, beautiful water stretched a solid seven yards or so across, and it looked about knee, or maybe mid-thigh high in some parts. It rushed loudly somewhere further down from him – but where he was, it slipped smoothly around rocks and the gnarled roots of a few of the gigantic trees lining it.

For a long time – he had no idea just how long – he stood there, basking in the fresh, cool breeze coming from the dark forest behind him, the warmth of the sun above him and everything else about the gorgeous scene.

His dad and his mom use to take him camping a lot when he was younger and he hadn't hated it, like he was sure others would assume he would. Sure, there had been issues with bugs and bathrooms (he gagged as he recalled some of the powerfully painful experiences of showering in those stalls with the slippery, greasy tiles beneath his feet, and the brownish gunk that always seemed to be _everywhere_) . . . but on the whole, he'd _loved_ it. A lot of it had to do with this – he just loved being around trees and the like when he was little, even to this day, and he had no explanation for it.

He really hadn't thought about it much since his mom . . . and when he did, he dismissed it as childish fancy. But now that he was here, he found himself stripping off his shoes, then his socks and, after a quick glance around (but he was completely alone, and wasn't that glorious in its own way?) he stripped down to his boxer briefs, laying his clothes out on a nearby rock.

He waded into the water, a smile breaking over his face at the feel of it tugging around his calves. He went further in until he found a spot that brought the water almost to his waist, then sunk down and allowed himself to float.

It was amazing.

He shut his eyes as the sun barrelled down at him from this new angle, but he smiled still. Everything in his mind, every half and fully formed thought buzzing about, quieted. It felt light, inside of him, as any and all worries just . . . faded away.

He floated, a foot and hand braced against protruding rocks so that the current wouldn't drag him further downstream.

It was weird (but, then again, this whole afternoon was weird, so, why not keep to the theme?), but he found himself thinking about what had brought him out there in the first place – something he'd completely forgotten about in the past . . . whatever hours.

And what was weirder, was how _clear_ the solution to his angst was. Namely, to _stop _angsting.

Really, how _monumentally moronic_ had he been? There was _nothing_ stopping him from calling up his gleemates to hang out. For all he knew, they were waiting on him to call because they weren't sure how to go about it either – or they didn't think _he_ cared. He knew he could put on a bit of an 'indifferent ice prince' front (so named by Tina) sometimes. And at the end of the day, if the worst happened and they laughed and scorned him for even thinking that they would associate with him outside of school hours . . . he still had Mercedes, Artie and Tina, who'd been his friends before Mr. Schuester called for auditions, and were even closer and better friends with him now.

He shivered a little as the sun ducked behind a cloud. He kept his eyes tightly shut, his mind whirring speedily, yet smoothly.

So, going from a hundred miles an hour, back down to zero, had been jarring. He acknowledged that he was perhaps allowed a small mourning period as life became, well,_ boring_.

But he was still the irrevocably fabulous Kurt Hummel, and he would just make his own damn Glee-filled summer. Screw this emo-nonsense.

_"I swear, Kurt, if you ever do something like that again – do not go into the water alone, okay? You're a great swimmer, kiddo, but you're still small enough to get dragged underneath. Please. For your old man's sake."_

_"Okay, daddy – but mommy, I swam well, right?"_

_"Pretty darn well, Kurt – oh, Burt, quit making that face. We were right here, nothing would've happened."_

_"You're not helping."_

_"Kurt's already promised not to do it again, so the issue is resolved. Our boy is just a little adventurer, aren't you, sweetie?"_

_"I bet I can swim faster than you daddy! And after, can I be the one to start the campfire? You promised I could this time! You said when I was seven and a half I could!"_

_" . . . Fine. You both win. Be prepared to lose, kiddo – don't think that because you're my son I'm going to go easy on you."_

_"Good! That way it'll be way cooler when I beat you! Watch us, mommy, watch us!"_

Kurt opened his eyes wide as the rest of the memory filtered through. He couldn't believed he'd forgotten that particular camping trip – the first time he'd been allowed to light the campfire, beating his father at the swimming race (which, yes, his dad let him win, but he'd made sure it was pretty close, and pretended to be shocked and appalled that Kurt had streaked ahead), and his mother making him feel so important and independent.

Maybe that adventurous little seven year old hadn't completely grown up and gone the way of the glitter sneakers and peanut-butter and banana sandwiches.

He shivered again, glancing up to glare at the uncooperative sun, only to gape in shock to see that it had disappeared behind the trees, on the verge of setting.

_Crap, how long have I been out here?_

He sat up, his feet touching the mossy bottom, slipping and sliding as he climbed out of the water, shuddering as cool air snaked across his wet skin. He stared at his clothes, realizing his shorts were absolutely soaked – so, he could either go commando in his jeans or walk back in wet underwear and pants.

Well, no one would notice if he went commando. It would just be between him and his Levis (and that pun was most certainly not intended).

He made the change quickly, making sure his car keys were still in his pocket as he gingerly slipped on his jeans. He noted the pinkish tinge to his skin, sighing – oh well, he supposed a mild sunburn was worth the price of admission to this mini-paradise. He wrung out his shorts out as much as he could once he was dressed and glanced up, alarmed to see the sky darkening. Which meant his dad was probably wondering where the hell he was. And he didn't have his phone, damn it all.

Kurt was about an hour away from home and by the time he got back, his dad would likely be gearing up to go out and look for him himself, if he wasn't already.

His determination to have a Glee-filled summer would be somewhat dampened by the grounding he was probably going to get, but he had to get home, because worrying his dad was _not _something he did, if he could avoid it. He'd take his punishment, whatever it was.

He began to walk back, relieved that he could make out two of his small stone pyramids from where he stood, and walked as fast he could without running, not wanting to risk tripping over any fallen trunks and breaking his neck. Especially considering that no one knew where he was.

He put a little more speed in his steps as it began to get dangerously close to night. By the time he made it back to his Navigator, they sky was only barely clinging to that final bit of deep purple just as the sun disappeared. Kurt breathed out a sigh of relief as he slid into the car, tossing his shorts onto the passenger seat, flicking everything on, including his iPod – he chose a quieter playlist, one that was mostly orchestral soundtracks and classical music. He was particularly fond of the music from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He let it wash over him for a minute or two, taking one last look at the forest.

Cocking his head, he glanced around and when he found a mile marker, he memorized the number. Maybe he'd come back.

Provided he wasn't grounded for the entire summer – _get moving, Hummel._

He cursed himself for leaving his phone behind but, with luck, his dad had worked late at the shop, as he had been for the past week, and was missing him only for a couple of hours. Carole and maybe Finn would be the only other two he might have worried thanks to his own idiocy.

It didn't matter, he was on his way home now – but he wasn't going to rush. That deer thing had been scary enough during the day – he wasn't sure if he would have braked nearly as fast if it had happened at night – like now.

He made sure he stuck to the speed limit – all right, maybe ten miles above it, but he was a good driver, random deer encounters notwithstanding. He briefly contemplated stopping by a gas station on his way back and maybe calling ahead, but then decided against it. It was better to just get home as quickly as he could.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Mercedes left the girls after listening to Lady Gaga's latest album for the third time in a row, sneaking upstairs and onto Kurt's front porch. There was no sign of any movement on the street whatsoever. She sat down on the soft bench seat and sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around herself. The sun was low, setting far too fast for her liking.

And nothing, no word from Kurt.

"Heya 'Cedes," came a soft voice.

Mercedes didn't jump – she'd gotten used to Quinn's near silent approaches when the girl had been living with her.

"Hey." Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, trying to act like it wasn't because she felt like crying. "What's up?"

Quinn sat down next to her. Mercedes noticed how her hands seemed to reflexively rest on her belly, even if just for a second. The other girl leaned back, brushing shoulders. "Not much is up. The girls are in Finn's room now, watching them play_ Left for Dead_ – which, you know, having watched you play it . . . not really interested." Mercedes recalled Quinn passing out cold the first time she tried to introduce her to the wonders of shooting and blowing things up in a virtual world – she figured the next time Quinn was over, she'd start her off slow; maybe she'd be more into the _Prince of Persia_ games? Fun dialogues, cool story, awesome gymnastic-type moves . . . Kurt had really liked it, and he came over to her house everyday for a week until he beat the first one.

"You know, it's all right to be worried about him. We all are. Even Puck and Santana are, and I don't need to tell you how insane that is."

Mercedes had to smile a little at that. "Well, everything has been so nuts lately, I bet Mr. Schue could show up now and tell us he and Ms. Sylvester are now Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester, and it totally wouldn't surprise me."

"Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester?" Quinn smirked, and it used to be such a malicious expression, but there was nothing mean about it anymore. "Right, no, that makes sense. I can't see Coach Sylvester ever changing her name. For anyone. Well, maybe Madonna, but since Madonna doesn't have a last name, I suppose that doesn't count."

Mercedes cocked her head. "Maybe she would just go by 'Sue' . . . nah, can't picture that either."

Quinn giggled, and Mercedes felt her own smile widen fractionally.

They both flinched when a car roared past, straightening to catch a glimpse, already knowing it wasn't Kurt.

Mercedes sunk low her seat. "I don't think I can take much more of this waiting thing."

Quinn nodded. "Me either. Do you have any idea why Kurt's been acting so strangely?"

She shrugged, eyes still focused on one end of the street. "I . . . I don't know. But I think part of it is that he misses school – or, you know, Glee."

"I think we all miss Glee. And I think some of us are trying to pretend we don't, but we totally do." Quinn played with the hem of her blue sundress. "Like, I know that Puck had an almost girly freak out when Finn called him up to hang out the day after school finished. It was cute."

Mercedes arched an eyebrow, grateful to have something to talk about that wasn't Kurt-related. "Puck, huh? Tell me you haven't gotten back with your baby-daddy – I like the guy, and he isn't a total asshole, but I don't think you two should be . . ."

The blonde put her head on Mercedes shoulder. "We're not. I don't think so, anyway. It's . . . sometimes he just comes over . . . or I come to him. And we just sit. And we talk about . . . her. And I don't think I've ever heard him talk so much about something that wasn't sports, video games or his guns."

Mercedes nodded. "Makes sense, but –"

"I think I still . . . _like him_, like him . . . but this isn't about that. It's . . ." There was a sniff, and Mercedes clasped the other girl's hand tightly. "It was weird, but, I was relieved when I gave Beth to Ms. Corcoran, and now . . . now I can't stop thinking about her, about how she felt in my arms, and how much she looked like me, and –"

Mercedes felt tears prick her own eyes, and she remembered too – the awe of watching that baby girl placed in her mother's arms, and the look of unabashed love and tenderness on Puck's face (after he practically puked his guts out watching what was happening between Quinn's legs). She would never forget, for as long as she lived, any moment of that labour.

That baby had been a Glee-baby. She had belonged to all of them, for a while. But Puck and Quinn had felt it the strongest, obviously, and to have her taken away – because that's the way it had to be – must have stung so badly.

She found herself wondering if Puck had someone besides Quinn to cry to. She wondered if he had felt like crying at all, or, even if he had felt like it, if he had let himself. Because he had named her Beth. She knew that he had loved his daughter for the few hours he and Quinn had had her. It was written all over his face.

"So, you guys are helping each other deal, then? That's cool."

"You know, Puck's not dealing with it that well, actually," Quinn responded, frowning. "I think a part of him still thinks he's like his dad. That he failed Beth and he's doomed to be a lousy father."

"Well, he hasn't exactly been the greatest guy, let alone a potentially good dad," Mercedes pointed out. "But he can be sweet, too, I guess. He's talking with Finn again, right?"

Quinn shook her head against her shoulder. "I think they're talking again, but not about Beth. It would be . . . too weird. And I don't think he wants to risk their friendship."

"Wow. So much complexity. I didn't know Mr. Badass had it in him."

Quinn laughed. "Don't you dare say anything – to anyone – about this. He might actually kill us all if we let it get out that he's a big, fat softy underneath it all."

Mercedes snorted. "Puh-lease – as if anyone in Lima would believe it. And he's still a narcissistic, bullying jackass, soft gooey inside or not."

Quinn giggled again. "Yeah, he is. And Santana's still a grade-A bitch, Brittany is . . . Brittany, Finn can't multiply past six, and on Rachel's best day, she's still a raving diva – and yet we can all be in the same room, the same house, and have it not implode."

"I told you – this year has been _nuts._" Mercedes laughed along with her. "And don't forget Kurt's own raving diva issues, and the fact that any day now he's going totally lose it on Rachel and take her to the carpet."

"I'd pay to watch that." Quinn grinned evilly. "And we could take bets. I bet Kurt takes her out with one of his messenger bags in five minutes."

"Nah," Mercedes countered. "He'd hog-tie her with his scarves –"

Another engine sound, rolling steadily down the street. They both sat up, watching as a small, four door Chevy went on by. Mercedes put her head in her hands. "God – this boy is driving me crazy."

Quinn said nothing for a moment, then, "It's been dark for a while. I think we need to call Kurt's dad."

Mercedes glanced at the dimness around them, seeing that the porch light had come on, and that Quinn was right. It was after dark – and Kurt had officially been out of contact with them for nearly nine hours. Which, strange behaviour or not, was not like him under any circumstances.

"Actually, never mind about calling Kurt's dad." Quinn had stood up and walked down the steps to take one last look down the street. Mercedes followed her down and saw Mr. Hummel's truck approaching from the other end, paused at a stop sign. She felt her stomach twist up into even further knots, something she hadn't thought possible.

"I'm going to tell the others," Quinn said softly. "You okay? We can tell him together before I –"

"No, no, it's cool – just let everyone know." Mercedes crossed her arms again, shivering even though there was barely a breeze – it was a pretty warm, humid night.

The truck seemed to arrive almost in slow motion. Just as it pulled into the driveway, the front door opened behind Mercedes, and she could hear all her friends spilling out onto the porch.

She saw Mr. Hummel and Mrs. Hudson exchanging glances before sliding out of the truck.

"Hey Mercedes," Mr. Hummel said measuredly, staring at all the gleeks gathered behind her. "Uh, when Finn said he had a few people over –"

"Yeah, we sort of invaded," she said apologetically, casting looks over at the street, praying for a timely arrival.

Mr. Hummel just grinned. "C'mon, you know the door's always open for you, and I recognize the rest – you're all the Glee kids."

There was a general murmur of agreement. Mrs. Hudson walked up the steps, pausing at the sight of Puck and Quinn. Quinn smiled weakly and Puck shuffled his feet around like a five year old . . . but then she smiled at them both, and turned to her son, everybody stepping back as she moved to stand next to Finn. "What's wrong, sweetie – you've got that look on your face you get when something's broken and it's your fault."

Finn stuttered for a minute before turning to Mercedes. "I – I guess we have to tell them now."

Mercedes nodded, facing Kurt's father again. He was tensing up and she could see he had already worked it out more or less, especially since his next words were, "Where's Kurt?"

She gave Finn one last look before staring at the street and saying, quietly, "He, uh, he went for a drive around lunch time – left his phone behind. We haven't heard anything since."

Mrs. Hudson was the first to react, and Mercedes was grateful – Mr. Hummel had just inhaled sharply and not said anything. He didn't seem too freaked out, but his eyes were darting amongst them quickly, as if double-checking that Kurt wasn't just hiding amongst them.

"Well, it's not like him to do that – especially forget his phone. I swear it's like an extension of his arm. But it's not that late – I'm sure he'll be home soon."

Everybody had turned to watch as she spoke and as soon as she finished, they whipped their heads towards Mr. Hummel, who shoved his hands into his pockets and took a second to stare down the street. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders were hunched, but he kept his cool – something Mercedes wished she could say for herself. She was still a nervous wreck.

"Kurt's a responsible kid. Don't you guys worry . . . actually, I guess it's a little late for that, isn't it?"

Mercedes smiled sheepishly, exchanging glances with Rachel. "We kinda launched a search and rescue mission an hour after nobody'd heard from him."

Mr. Hummel chuckled, though his eyes were fixed on the road. "Well, while that's, uh, nice of you all, it was a bit . . . much. I'm sure he's just lost track of time or something. He'll be back, just like Carole said."

This last bit was said a little too firmly. Mercedes bit her lip. She opened her mouth, not too sure if she should suggest calling the police or maybe going for yet another search around town.

"Would it be cool if, um, we hang around, for a bit, Mr. Hummel?" asked Matt, trying to play it off as a casual request.

"Uh, yeah, we had a game going, and we'd like to finish it, if that's okay?" Finn asked hopefully.

"If it's all right with you, sir, we'd like to stick around and make sure Kurt gets home okay," and this came from Artie, straightforward and honest.

"Please." That was her voice, all wavering and weepy. "I know it's pretty stupid, but we've all been looking for him all day, and we just need to be here, when the idiot boy finally crawls home."

Kurt's dad smiled at her, putting a hand on her arm. "Mercedes, you know Kurt just as well as I do – he'll be fine. And I promise you first dibs on any yelling. I think you might do a better job than me."

"She can be pretty damn scary."

There was some surprised laughter at the resident badass' observation. Mercedes had to giggle, swallowing down her freaked-out tears as Puck rubbed at the back of his neck, just like Finn sometimes did, and glared around balefully. "What? Don't act like she doesn't freak you out, dudes. I bet should could take you in a fight, Chang."

Mike held up a hand. "Hey, I didn't say anything!"

"Our Mercedes is fully capable of taking _anyone_ to the carpet," Tina stated, loud and proud.

Quinn made her way to Mercedes' side once more. "Well, I'd definitely bet on you if it came down to you and Rachel. You and Mike . . . I'd need to calculate the odds."

"Are you planning on starting some sort of gambling racket now?" Mercedes rolled her eyes as they all finally started to head inside at Mrs. Hudson's urging. Mr. Hummel was lingering behind, but no one said anything about that.

"Now that I don't have a baby to worry about? Sure. Why not? I'll make it to the top of the next G-list for sure."

"Pffft, considering that you'd be the one writing it, that isn't sayin' much . . . but I'll help you out, if it gets me the number 2 spot and a certain percentage of your profit." Mercedes nudged her teasingly, and she kept herself from turning to look back at the street one last time as they reached the front door, stepping inside and letting the screen clang shut behind them.

"It's a deal. We could get Puck to help us out – he's actually part of a fight club, you know."

"I don't get how – don't you get booted out for talking 'bout that stuff to other people?"

"Hey! I heard my name! What are you two babes gabbing about back there?" Puck was sitting at the kitchen table, leaning back on his chair to stare down the hallway at Quinn and Mercedes chatting on the threshold.

"We're still working out the details, we'll get back to you!" Mercedes called back, grinning widely at Quinn, who threw her head back to laugh.

They joked and hollered back and forth between themselves and the large group in the kitchen, the crazy intensity of the day finally fading even though Kurt was still MIA.

Mercedes turned to shut the front door, laughing at some snide comment Quinn had just made, and then stared.

Because there, sitting in the driveway, talking with his dad, was Kurt.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note: **Whew, that was difficult to spit out, let me tell you. And the next chapter is even longer. *shakes head*

I just want to say THANK YOU, to everyone who has reviewed, to those that haven't, but have favourite'd, and to those that have simply read and keep on reading. You're all unbelievably awesome. Hope you enjoyed this bit, and I'll try to have the next (and likely last) chapter up for you guys either sometime this weekend, or early next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **Extreme fluffiness ahead. Like, to the tenth power. Have your dentists on standby, you may need them to fill the cavities that will inevitably spring up from the unbearable sweetness. I tried really hard to tone it down . . . I failed miserably.

**Chapter 4**

Kurt turned onto his street, finally easing up on the gas pedal as he approached his house. He mentally braced himself for what awaited. Most likely, it would be the lecture of a lifetime that would utilize his father's ability to make him feel like he was a complete cretin for worrying him so badly and, thus, unworthy of his car, his phone, and possibly his credit card and his freedom.

He would fight, bitch and defy like any teenager when he was being punished for secretly hording tiaras, going a few hundred dollars over his monthly credit limit or using up all the hot water in the house before seven in the morning, but when it came to causing his father pain and/or freaking him out? Kurt was willing to accept any and all consequences. It made him feel a bit like those self-flagellating monks – he always hated himself for it.

The first things he noticed as he drove up were the cars, as well as a familiar looking van, parked in front of and across from his house. Before he could really wonder at that though, he spotted his dad at the end of his driveway.

Kurt had a brief moment of panic and, without really knowing why, he grabbed his still damp boxers and shoved them into the back of his glove compartment. He had the urge to check his hair, recently dry and probably an unmitigated disaster, and to fix the remainder of his clothes, but knew perfectly well that he was a mess and there was no fixing it. And that it didn't matter to his father what he looked like at the end of the day.

His dad had apparently spotted him before Kurt himself had noticed his father and was standing, hands in his jeans' pockets, waiting for him. Kurt slowed to a crawl, pulling into the driveway without looking towards the man. Just as he turned the engine off, he turned to his door and found his father standing right in front of it. They stared at each other for a moment before Kurt steeled his courage and lowered the window, swallowing hard as he did so.

"Uh . . . hi dad."

His father just looked at him.

Kurt opened his mouth to say something banal like 'how was your day?' but decided to just get the whole painful ordeal over with and instead blurted out, "I'm _so _sorry. Really. It was a weird day, and I lost track of time, and I had no phone so I couldn't call and –"

A hand was raised and Kurt shut his mouth with an audible click of his jaw. His dad studied him, probably taking in his disheveled appearance, and Kurt reflexively reached up to straighten his hair, with minimal success – he could feel his bangs falling against his eyebrows no matter how many times he combed through with his fingers. After several moments of silence, his father finally spoke, "I've only had about five or ten minutes to absorb your disappearing act – not enough time to get a good panic goin'. I was workin' my way up to that. So you're in luck."

Kurt exhaled in relief – so he hadn't prematurely aged his dad another decade or two. "That's . . . that's good, dad. I – you know I would never do this to you on purpose or –"

His father smiled wanly. "I know, kiddo. And I wanna hear the story behind this later. But right now, you have some consequences to face." His dad stepped back to allow him room to get out of the car.

Kurt nodded as he opened the door. "Whatever you say, I completely deserve it."

His dad shook his head. "Nah, not from me. Like I said, I didn't really get a chance to worry – and I wouldn't've really known about it, if Mercedes hadn't told me just now. And Finn."

"Mercedes? Finn?"

"KURT!"

Kurt had enough time to see a denim clad blur launch itself off his porch before he was all but flattened against the side of his Navigator, Mercedes' arms wrapped suffocatingly around him. He could hear his father laughing as Mercedes leaned back far enough to search his face, a huge smile breaking across hers and . . . were those _tears_?

"Kurt! God, you're a mess! Did something happen? _Where have you been?!_"

She wiped what was probably some stray dirt or dried sweat off his cheek and temple before squeezing him tightly again. He hugged her back, shooting his father a puzzled look over her shoulder.

His dad grinned. "You ain't see nothing yet."

Mercedes pulled back long enough for another pair of arms to drag him close, and he suddenly had a mouthful of blonde hair. He spat out the strands, gasping out, "Quinn?" as she hugged him about the neck.

Throughout all of this, he'd been hearing the periodic slam of his front door, and he gazed over the blonde head buried in his neck to see Finn, Matt, Tina, Puck, the _entire_ glee club gathered on his porch and in his front yard.

"Wha –"

"We were _worried._" Mercedes was wiping at her tears, trying to be subtle about it. Kurt couldn't stop staring at all the faces he'd thought he wouldn't be seeing until the new school year.

"Wait – why? I just went for a drive, and I've –"

"Been doing that for the past week, I know. We'll deal with this bizarre behaviour of yours later, by the way, and don't think I'll forget, drama queen!"

Kurt cringed at that one – that was Mercedes' _Black Diva on the Rampage_ tone – the one that even Kurt, on his best and bitchiest day, wouldn't _dare_ defy.

"But you disappeared for hours," came Quinn's quiet voice as she peeled herself off him, and Kurt took a second to admire the cute dark blue sundress – he vaguely remembered helping Mercedes pick it out as a post-pregnancy gift, and he gave himself mental props – it looked great on her. Then he blinked at the absence of belly – sometimes he forgot that Quinn wasn't pregnant anymore. To be fair, he didn't really get to know the girl until she was bloated with the now-ex-Mohawk's spawn.

Quinn smiled. "You didn't take your phone and . . . I suppose it's silly, but we were freaking out – you _have_ been weird for the past while."

"But, how would you know? I haven't spoken to you in ages."

"Because Mercedes and I talk," Quinn said simply. "And you haven't tried to talk to me either, Kurt."

Kurt had to concede the point – his own fear of rejection had erected this wall between him and his new friends. Wasn't that just what he'd realized during his little nature expedition?

"Really, it's been sorta freaky, watching you mope around the house," Finn added, and Kurt had to double take yet again at the sight of all those people – worried about _him_?

"Yeah, what the hell was all this crap about, anyway?" Puck asked, hopping over the railing of the porch to land on the grass and make his way over. The rest of the gleeks followed; Matt and Tina put down the large piece of wood, that Kurt's dad had long ago supplied, to cover the two steps which lead up to the porch in order to allow Artie to wheel down.

"I'll hear this story later – I need to get changed." His father leaned over and squeezed Kurt's shoulder, almost too hard. Kurt felt the guilt flare up – his father had been afraid, even if only for a few minutes. He smiled reassuringly at his dad, who smiled back and headed inside, bumping shoulders with Finn as he did so. Kurt watched him leave, eyes resting on his dad even as the door shut.

"C'mon, Kurt – where were you?" Finn crossed his arms, drawing Kurt's focus back to the crowd on his lawn.

In trying to figure out how best to tell this story, Kurt had a sudden epiphany – he didn't want to tell them about the stream. Not just because he couldn't really begin to explain that to himself, let alone to them, but . . . he wanted to keep it secret – keep it safe, secluded, and just for him.

"I . . . went for a drive and then, well, this deer jumped in front of the car –"

Rachel gasped, and Mercedes immediately began manhandling him, looking for injuries. "You idiot, why didn't you –"

"Because I'm _fine_," Kurt stated firmly, grabbing Mercedes hands in his own. "Really, Mercedes, I'm fine."

"Then what?" Tina asked, and everyone was positively riveted – with the exception of Brittany, who kept fluttering her eyelashes at him whenever he happened to glance her way. And Santana, but Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen her excited except while singing or cheering. And Puck, but he seemed at least mildly interested.

"Well . . . then nothing. I had a mild heart attack, managed to not cream either the deer or myself. I took some time to calm down, probably too much time, in retrospect. I walked for a bit, in the forest" – he gestured at his rumpled person – "and then . . . drove around 'til I realized how late it was. And then I came home."

There was a silence.

"Uh, that was _it_?" Matt exclaimed, rubbing the top of his short hair. "We were driving all over town –"

"And out of town," Puck put in. "Me and Quinn were practically at Columbus."

"Looking for you, and the whole time you were just driving in _circles_! Why?" Matt finished, staring at Kurt in confusion.

Kurt felt all eyes zero in on him even more intently, and he squirmed under all the attention. "Uh, because I was bored?"

"_Bored?_!" And there it was – Mercedes hauled back with an opened hand and smacked him across the back the head hard enough to make him see stars.

"Ow! Damn it, Mercedes –"

"Shut up, you had it comin'! Bored! I can't believe I was worried outta my head for the likes of you!"

The near silence erupted into noise as everyone began talking at once about everything they did to look for him – all the places they went and the amount of searching and driving – and maybe they were trying to make him feel guilty or simply impress upon him the stupidity of his actions . . . but he could feel a smile breaking across his face anew.

Because they did it all for _him_.

Quinn pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Try not to do that again, okay? You really had Mercedes freaking out – I mean, she was trying not to show it, but it was a little scary – and not just for her," she whispered into his ear.

The arguing and grandstanding about who drove the most or did the most thorough searching had somehow segued into just general chatter and before Kurt knew it, they were all sprawled on the grass, enjoying the warm night, and chatting about everything and nothing.

Tina had drifted over to give Kurt a hug and kiss too, whispering similarly in his ear that she had been on the verge of freaking out herself, and if Kurt ever pulled a stunt like that again, he would get a midnight visit from an Asian vampire hell bent on teaching him the perils of angering a "creature of the night". Kurt wasn't entirely sure how seriously to take her threat, as she had ended it by laughing and kissing him once more, but he decided better safe and sorry. He promised her it would never happen again and she had bounced back to Artie's side, plopping herself down next to Brittany, who handed her a braided grass bracelet without a word.

Actually, Brittany had been slowly and steadily making grass bracelets and necklaces using the ridiculously long (_whoops_, this had been Kurt's week to mow) grass of Kurt's front lawn, and passing them along. Santana was already fully outfitted in a necklace, two bracelets and a ring. Kurt had to cover up a laugh with a cough as he noticed Puck and Mike both wearing a bracelet and necklace each.

By the time everyone was decked out in their organic jewelry, things had settled down to a low hum and Kurt was sprawled between Mercedes and Quinn, head in Mercedes' lap, legs thrown over Quinn's.

"I can't believe what total pussies we were today." Puck groaned, quieting any other conversations. "All this time, he was just drivin' around –"

"We should thank Kurt – I don't think we've been all together since the week of Regionals," Rachel spoke, reclined comfortably against Finn's chest. "We didn't really see much of each other during the last month of school. Mind you, I was spending the time prepping for an audition tape I send every year for a summer Broadway program that's typically only open for college students, but their last rejection letter implied a great deal of partiality, and it seemed like perhaps my age and situation were the only obstacles."

Kurt stared, slack-jawed. He could feel Mercedes swallowing down laughter, but it seemed she couldn't restrain herself completely. "God, Kurt, I swear you guys could be brother and –"

"Bite your tongue, woman!"

Quinn cracked up. "Oh my God! I totally see it!"

Everyone else was looking confused while the two girls laughed like lunatics. Kurt sat up, crossing his arms and trying his best not to sulk like a child.

Rachel was cocking her head, trying to understand what was going on, and likely wondering if this was laughter at her expense. Kurt, for once, felt the need to reassure her. "Ignore them. And I completely understand – my own design portfolios are turned down with far too much finesse and effort – I believe I have a foot in the door in New York already."

Rachel clapped her hands, smiling broadly. "That's excellent! Oh, you and I could be famous friends, and then when everyone sees us together, we'll attract twice the amount of paparazzi and –"

"Uh, hold your horses, Young Barbara Streisand," Kurt said quickly, feeling a flare of panic at the thought of Rachel and he in the future, residing in the same zip code (but he had to admit that the paparazzi thing was sort of . . . no, that road led to badness and endless Rachel Berry time). "Let's just get through the slushie warzone that is our high school first, shall we?"

He turned to glare at Quinn and Mercedes, but the latter had this warm, happy grin that had more meaning behind it than Kurt could decipher, so he gave up on intimidating anyone and slouched down, leaning back onto his hands. "This has been one insane day."

"Tell me about it," Mercedes agreed, still grinning that annoyingly cryptic grin.

"How did we get here?" Artie wondered. "Wait, I know! Completely unreasonable panic and paranoia!"

"And Kurt was _bored_!" Mercedes smacked him again.

"Ow! Mercedes, please." He rubbed the back of his head. "Are you going to keep doing that for the rest of the night?"

"Yes! What a damn stupid reason to disappear off the face of the earth," she grumbled.

"Well, I _was_!" He tried to defend himself. "Think about it! This entire school year has been nuts, and non-stop and . . . now it has stopped, and . . . I don't know, things feel empty. And . . ." He trailed off, realizing everyone was staring at him again; he flushed, closing his mouth.

"So, you could have called me! Talked to me! Talked to _any_ of us," Mercedes insisted, still shooting him frustrated glares.

"Uh, not me." Puck raised a hand. "I don't do emotional crisis well . . . actually, I just don't do them, period. But dude, if you wanted to come and shoot hoops with us, you totally could've come."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "While I appreciate the offer, Puck, I think my brief foray into football was all the athleticism I would ever want or need for the rest of my teenage life. Call me in about five years."

"Well, there's a simple solution to this boredom of yours." Rachel tossed her hair over her shoulder, whacking Finn in the face with it. "I need some help at the community centre – I volunteer at the kid's summer program, and we have a production of _Annie_ coming up. Your talent and experience would be most welcome."

"Actually, do you think maybe I could get in on that too?" Tina asked interestedly. "My summer tutoring is a complete drag and I could use the distraction."

Rachel nodded happily.

"And I'm in desperate need of a new wardrobe, now that I've lost the last bit of pregnancy weight," Quinn added, holding his hand. "And there's no one better to help me pick out new clothes. You and Mercedes are officially my new fashion consultants."

Mercedes high fived Quinn in front of Kurt, and gave him a kiss on the cheek at the same time that Quinn did – there was a flash of a camera and Artie grinned once Kurt blinked the red spots out his vision. "I'll e-mail you a copy, and I'm posting this on my MySpace – you'll be the envy of every male in Lima."

Quinn giggled softly, putting her head on his shoulder, and Kurt felt that sense of incredulity flicker to life inside of him for what had to be the tenth time that night.

Santana cleared her throat, crossing her arms. Everyone whipped their heads towards her, expressions disbelieving.

"Brittany and I practice Cheerio's routines everyday, per Coach Sylvester's strict instruction – she likes to show up at our houses at random and make us do routines on the spot to make sure we're still fresh." Santana glared at him, and Kurt swallowed hard, because he hadn't done anything Cheerio's related since Nationals. "And I know you're mostly a singer, but don't think that excuses you. You're coming over at least twice a week and practicing your cartwheels, Hummel. They're pathetic."

Brittany nodded enthusiastically at this plan, giving Kurt a slow wink when he looked over at her. Right, he wasn't even going to try and figure that one out.

"Actually . . ." Mike was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh, Matt and I . . ."

"Dude, shut up!" Matt hissed.

"Hey, c'mon, you know it's a good idea," Mike protested, and blushed when he noticed everyone's eyes on them now. Kurt felt himself getting wide-eyed at the amount of love and attention he was getting, so Mike's next words didn't garner a big reaction out of him, mostly because he was all out of big reactions.

"Matt and I have been thinking of trying out for the Cheerios," he blurted out quickly, and there were a lot of shocked gasps and blank stares at this. "And we've been practicing like, dance moves and stuff we think would be really cool. Maybe we could come over to Santana's and Brittany's too, and you guys can help us make up a few routines that might impress Coach Sylvester."

"What about football?" Finn asked, baffled by this turn of events.

Mike shrugged. "It's only part of the year, we can do them both – I'm sure it'll be fine. Plus, Cheerios is all year, and so are the perks."

Kurt watched as Finn and Puck absorbed this. Puck pursed his lips. "Okay. Whatever. Enjoy, dudes – I get it. Free dry cleaning, concert tickets, haircuts and hot girls to feel up." He grinned lewdly. "I'd join too, but it wouldn't be fair to you guys to have to compete with me. And I'd rock that uniform way harder than even the girls do."

Santana leaned over and smacked the back of Puck's head loud enough to have Kurt wincing sympathetically, but the girls just laughed while Puck pouted, rubbing his wounded skull.

Brittany frowned. "But the guys don't have to wear skirts so we don't have them in your size . . ."

Kurt let out a surprised snort at that statement, and everyone immediately covered their mouths to smother their own laughter at the thought of Puck in a skirt. Santana just smirked. "Yeah, Puckerman – you can join in on our little get-togethers if you come in the skirt. Hell, I'll even let you grope me."

Puck sneered. "That's what they call a forgone conclusion, babe. You'll let me grope you anyways."

"Oh really, and when the last time you had a piece?" Santana taunted.

Puck scowled, and the cheerleader smiled, almost genuinely. "It's cool, Puck – but remember the offer still stands."

"And you did say that you could wear a dress and still be a stud," Finn reminded Puck cheerfully.

The other jock straightened at that, glowering. "I totally could! And screw you, Lopez, I bet I'd get more tail than you in that thing!"

The girl narrowed her dark eyes. "Wanna bet, Puckerman?" Her voice was low and deadly.

"Yeah! Pick the day, name the place and it's on! Don't forget to wax for the occasion though – I know you get lazy about that over the summer."

"Oooh," came from Mercedes, Finn and various others as Santana tried to fling herself at him from her seated position while Tina and Brittany held her back. There were repressed chuckles and giggles all around as Puck looked panicked for a second or two.

"Hey, Kurt," he spoke as he edged away from Santana. "I was thinking of getting another summer job – my pool cleaning business is . . . uh, kinda not goin' so great." He wasn't looking at anybody while he said this, and no one commented on the fact that pool cleaning should be at an all time high over the summer. He coughed and, as he raised his eyes again, his smirk was firmly back in place. "I can't handle working at Sheets N' Things much longer – they won't let me go topless under those ugly-ass smocks and Mr. Ryerson is there all the time and he's creepy. So, I was thinking, maybe I could work at your dad's garage?"

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "You've got some mechanical knowledge?"

Puck half-shrugged. "Uh. Not really. But I figure you can spare the time to teach me 'til I do, and then maybe your dad can hire me part-time or something?"

Kurt considered it for about half a minute before nodding his agreement. Puck would have to behave in the presence of his father and, well . . . He knew the so-called badass was having issues – he couldn't turn him down and appease his conscience at the same time. He would talk to his dad and see if it was cool with him. Puck shot him one of his genuine smiles and Kurt found himself smiling back. _Huh, well_, Mercedes had said there was a good guy buried deep, _deep _down. Maybe Kurt would get to know that guy this summer.

"And don't forget our Joss Whedon marathon!" Tina interjected randomly, clapping her mesh-gloved hands excitedly.

"Yeah, Kurt, you totally promised us a _Buffy/Angel/Firefly/Dr. Horrible _weekend!" Artie reminded him, adjusting his glasses. "You said so right after our math exam. I can quote you verbatim if you like. 'Can't stop the signal'."

"And," Finn finished off, smiling rather nervously, "I think maybe . . . I mean, I basically re-did my new room the same as my old room, and I think maybe it's time for a change . . ." Okay,_ that_ was _so_ not fair. Kurt could feel his eyes watering and he knew no one would really get why, other than Finn, who's smile only widened. "You could help me out with re-decorating. And we could totally have everyone over when it's time to paint it!"

There was cheering at this idea, and Kurt managed to blink away any potential tears. He grinned as everyone started furthering plans and plots around him. He heard Artie say, loudly, that the annual St. Anne's Hospital Charity Car Wash would be the perfect place to decide Puck and Santana's bet, which both instantly agreed to. Kurt watched everyone grin at each other, wordlessly agreeing to be there – Kurt knew he would be, with bells on. No way he was missing _that_ throwdown.

"Hey!" Kurt turned to see his father emerge from the front door, clad in his flannel sleep pants and a plain blue shirt. "Not that I don't want you guys here, but it's almost two in the morning, and I've already had at least three phone calls from the Berrys, Mr. Abrams, and Brittany's mom and a few others. I think it's time to head on out."

There was some jerking and jumping as people heard the time, checked their missed calls on their phones, and then it was a whirlwind of goodbyes and promises to text and e-mail as people hopped into their various rides and took off. Quinn was one of the last to leave, along with Puck – she looked very reluctant about it. Mercedes shot Kurt a meaningful look as she hugged the blonde goodbye. Kurt nodded in return – Mercedes had some thoughts about Quinn's mom, some not good thoughts, and Kurt couldn't help but agree that things weren't exactly altogether well with the two recently single Fabray women. It merited further investigation; Kurt mentally pencilled that into his suddenly nearly full schedule.

Once Quinn and Puck were gone, it was just Kurt, Mercedes and Finn left standing in the front yard. Finn smacked Kurt's back lightly. "I'm glad you're all right, Kurt – I guess it was stupid of us to get so wound up about it. But still, I'm real glad you're okay."

Kurt flashed a smile in the taller teen's direction. "It was stupid, but that and 'weird' seem to be the words of the day. Thanks, Finn."

Finn nodded, turning towards the house. "I'm beat, so I'm heading to bed." He shot Mercedes a quick grin. "You were awesome today."

She waved him off. "I kept my head 'cause I knew it would turn out all right in the end."

Kurt didn't believe her, and it looked like Finn didn't either, but he said nothing as he shot Kurt a knowing look and headed inside, past Kurt's dad.

Kurt was about to offer Mercedes a ride home, but she spoke up before he could, "If it's cool with you, Mr. Hummel, I'm gonna stay." She clutched Kurt's hand in hers.

His dad nodded. "Of course – you don't even have to ask anymore. Plus, your parents already phoned and I told 'em that you were probably gonna crash here tonight – you may want to phone them again to confirm it. And, please, you two, try to actually get _some_ sleep. I ain't gonna check on ya, so humour me."

They both nodded, and Mercedes lead the way to the basement, calling her parents as they went, and hanging up by the time they reached the bottom of Kurt's steps. Then she let go of his hand and smacked him yet again.

"God! Mercedes, please stop – between the hugging and the hitting I'm going to be one big bruise tomorrow. You know how easily my skin gets marked up. I already have a sunburn – look."

She put her hands on her hips, glaring with far more intensity than she had earlier that night when he first arrived. "I don't care, Hummel." He winced, because she never called him by his last name unless _supremely_ pissed off, "How in the hell could you worry everybody like that?"

"I didn't know there was an 'everybody' to worry!"

She gaped at him. "What are you talkin' about?"

Kurt stared around his room, avoiding eye contact. "I just . . . it felt like things had gone back to they way they were . . . before. And I didn't want them to. It was making me all weepy and depressed, on top of being bored, and that's why I've been acting like less than my stellar self. I'm sorry. I know I should've tried to talk to you about it but . . . I just didn't want to hear the confirmation. I didn't want things to change back."

Kurt walked away as Mercedes took all that in, turning on his bedside lamp and turning off the overhead lights. He slipped into his closet to grab some pyjamas for himself and for her – a light blue pair she left behind for occasions such as these, where they didn't necessarily plan on her staying over.

Kurt pulled off his shirt, grimacing at the state of it, and himself, come to think of it. He vowed to shower thoroughly the next . . . actually, that morning. He was reaching for the button on his jeans just before he remembered that he wasn't wearing any underwear. He froze, and then managed to cover it up with a smooth gesture at Mercedes' sleepwear. "You want to go ahead and get changed?"

Mercedes nodded, grabbing her PJs and heading into Kurt's bathroom. Once she was in there, he quickly shed his jeans, grabbed a new pair of boxer briefs and slipped everything on as fast as he could. By the time Mercedes had come back out, Kurt was dragging out the cot he kept in the back of his closet, and setting it up next to his bed.

His bed could fit two people with ease, but Mercedes had admitted to feeling a little uncomfortable sharing a bed with a guy – even if said guy was someone she trusted implicitly . . . and queerer than a three dollar bill. Kurt took no offense, understanding most of her logic himself, and even more so after that awkward crush that had befallen her. He took the cot, she took the bed, and not a word was spoken about it otherwise. Besides, he could kick like a ninja in his sleep and he would rather not subject his best friend to that.

"I get it," she said softly, and it took Kurt a minute to remember the thread of their conversation – exhaustion was beginning to creep up on him.

"You do?"

"Well, yeah – you think I haven't thought this whole year was some kind of crazy-ass dream? That I'll head to school one day, and Puck will be there, waiting with a slushie? That Finn won't even look at me in the hallways and that Santana and Quinn will only talk to me when they wanna tear someone down for fun?"

"Instead Quinn's one of your closest friends now, Finn's my almost-step-brother, you've dated Puck, and Santana and Brittany somewhat admit to knowing us, outside of Glee and Cheerios."

"Exactly." Mercedes waited until Kurt was comfortably wrapped up in his blankets before leaning over and shutting off the lamp on his night table.

The room went dark, except for the faintest hint of light, coming from the thin windows near his ceiling that let in the yellowish glow from the streetlamps.

"So," she continued on, shifting on the bed, "you do understand that everything's different now, right? I mean, who knows what'll happen next year, but no matter what, things are different. Finn living with you isn't gonna change anytime soon – I've seen how your dad and his mom are. And even if it all goes to hell, you still have me. And Tina. And Artie. And Rachel, and pretty boy, don't you even pretend like you still hate her guts – I know you don't."

"All right, fine – it's now more a mild sort of loathing that comes and goes depending on the volume of her voice. And the number of solos she gets."

"Kurt." Mercedes sounded tired herself. "I really think these people . . . they're our friends now. Like, for real."

"Yeah," he agreed, holding back a yawn. "Yeah, I think so too."

There was a long silence, and for a while Kurt thought Mercedes had fallen asleep until, "My money's on Puck for that bet, though."

"Pfft, I don't think so – the utter ridiculousness of the thing will totally cramp his style. Plus, I don't think he can pull it off. Maybe a darker toned skirt, perhaps in a shade of green –"

"Whatever, white boy – I'm totally betting you that Puck will take it. Just you watch. Quinn and I are already thinkin' of becoming bookies, so this'll be a great way to start out."

"Wow, were you ever productive today."

"Right, in-between worrying myself to death about you."

"I'm sorry. Truly, 'Cedes, I would never have done it had I known how freaked out you'd get."

"Don't apologize, I told you I get it. Just don't do it again, or next time, I will kick the crap out of you."

"Got it."

"And now I have ten other people to back me up. Includin' one that's the proud member of a fight club."

"I promise."

Another long silence, and then, so quiet Kurt could barely hear it, "I love you."

Kurt smiled into his pillow, a single tear escaping. He wiped it off and reached for Mercedes' hand. She must've been reaching for him as well, because they met in the middle. He entangled their fingers. "I love you too. And you're on for that bet – twenty bucks says Santana kicks his ass."

There was no reply but Kurt figured she had heard, and he drifted off, his best friend's hand wrapped around his. His wrist brushed against something strange on Mercedes' own, and just before he completely slipped into a deep and relaxing sleep, he realized that they were both still wearing their Brittany-made grass jewelry.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note: **I apologize for any sugar ODs – I told y'all it was sweet to a fault (enough not-angst for you, **vcg73**? ;) ).

Thank you so much for all the kind words and the like – you guys have been my motivation – and what excellent motivation you have been :)

I wouldn't mind hearing from you, if you so wish! Thank you all again for reading!

**EDIT: **Okay, now there is another chapter! I thought I was done, but then **Cootisms **suggested I write a final chapter with Burt, and that plot bunny has latched onto me and won't let go! So, click on to read the epilogue!


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **This is dedicated to **Cootisms, **who made a comment that it would be awesome to have one more chapter with Burt and almost as soon as I read it, this epilogue came to be.

I'm sorry for misleading you guys earlier, but this truly was spur-of-the-moment! Hope you enjoy it, regardless!

Oh, and on a random aside, I am incapable of typing in text-speak. I can understand it more or less, but I am by no means fluent in it (yes, I'm a weird twenty-something who doesn't text). So, all texts are in complete sentences and the like. Apologies if that bugs anyone!

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Epilogue**

When Kurt woke up the next morning, Mercedes was already up and about, fully dressed, beautifying herself and fluttering her fingers over her phone keypad.

He opened one eye, watching with a sleepy smile as she attempted to fix her hair while texting. He burrowed into his covers, drifting off again, and the next thing he was aware of was his best friend pressing a kiss to his forehead, whispering, "Rise and shine, pretty boy. It's time for you to shower – I can smell you from ten feet away."

Kurt groaned, blindly flinging the nearest pillow he could grab at her. She laughed, flouncing out of reach. Muttering to himself, he grabbed at the alarm clock on his nightstand, missing it twice before finally snagging it in his grip, and opened both his eyes. They were almost bugging out of his skull when he read the time. "Oh my God! It's noon!"

Mercedes grinned between giggles. "Yeah. My mom's picking me up on her lunch break so we can eat together before she drops me off at home. You wanna come with us?"

"Are you insane?" He leapt out of bed. "I have to bathe! And exfoliate! And –"

"All right, breathe, Kurt, breathe." Mercedes was _still_ laughing. "I'll leave ya to do just that. Make sure you don't get into any accidents though – if you slip and break your head open in the shower, I will _not_ be a happy girl." Some of the concern from last night crept back into her eyes. Kurt slowed down his whirlwind of motion, tossing his towel onto the bathroom counter as he walked back over and hugged her.

"I already promised to never worry you again – this applies to any and all household accidents."

She squeezed him tightly. "You can't promise me that, and I know it, so don't do it. But you can promise me that the next time you get a fool notion that no one cares about you, you'll call me first, so I can tell you what an idiot you are."

He smiled into her hair, nodding against it.

Mercedes pulled away, grabbing his hand. "C'mon, your shower can wait for a few minutes – let's head upstairs and wait from my mom together."

Kurt glanced longingly towards his bathroom, but obeyed her – honestly, he'd do anything for her right now. They reached the kitchen and Kurt let Mercedes fuss over him. She began the process of laying out a late breakfast that would satisfy him, and besides: "Taking a hot shower on an empty stomach is a sure fire way to end up fainting, you silly boy."

He nodded in-between bites of cereal as she cooked up a quick plate of scrambled eggs, toast and served him a glass of orange juice. Her phone buzzed as she put the food on the table, and she glanced at it. "That's my mom – I'll go and meet her at the corner, and you!" She pointed at his breakfast. "Make sure you eat all that!"

Kurt smiled warmly at her. "Every last bite, Mercedes."

She gathered up her purse, giving him a quick kiss to the top of his head as she made her way out. Kurt stood up to watch his best girl go, waving as she hit the end of his driveway and wandered away from view. He walked back to the table and then took a second to realize he didn't have his phone – a mistake he wasn't going to make again. He ran downstairs, grabbed it, feeling it buzzing in his hand as he did so. He stared at his screen – he had about seventy, no, wait,_ ninety_ texts waiting to be read.

The vast majority of them were from yesterday, and he sheepishly began to read them as he finished his cereal and started in on his eggs and toast.

He winced as he went through Mercedes' texts first – they started off calmly inquisitive, and then moved onto annoyed, then increasingly irritated and, finally, worried and angry. He kept a few of them, if only because the threats were . . . well, rather amusing (the one about emptying out all his expensive hair-care products in the bathtub, and then drowning him in them, was both alarming and funny to him, though he couldn't say why).

Quinn's were fairly calm all through out, though he noticed her tacking on a lot more '_please_'s as she got more concerned. He kept one of hers, if only because a small part of him still wanted tangible proof that the former head cheerleader was his friend.

There were various texts from Tina and Artie, and he saved all of those, because Tina and Artie had essentially been writing a mini-dialogue between them and the missing Kurt (for example: _You're not at the Y, not that we expected that, but who knows? You did try out for the football team – maybe you're hiding some other jockish tendencies. If you are, you can tell us! We love you no matter what, even if you get all muscle-y and stuff!_).

There were a few scattered ones from Santana and Brittany – he had to snort out loud at Santana's: _You bitch, where are you?_ And Brittany's: _Miss ya Kurtie, come home soon baby, xoxoxo_. He saved all of those too.

Finn, Matt, Mike and Puck had also sent him a few texts each. Finn's were distinctly panic-filled and they sort of sounded like what Kurt would imagine a big brother did, which filled him up with a warmth that he didn't expect to feel: _Your dad is going to kill me, Kurt, please come home! Not 'cause I'm scared he's going to kill me, but 'cause I'm worried too. I hope you're not hurt, dude. So yeah, please come home!_ And then there was: _Man, I hope you get grounded for this! I've never been this freaked out over something!_

Matt and Mike's were pretty chilled out, and he kept one from each. Puck's were rather funny too, and he almost snorted orange juice out of his nose when he read: _Fairy, you owe me twenty bucks gas money. Unless you're actually hurt or something – then forget about it._

Rachel's texts were surprisingly short and to the point: _Where are you, Kurt? We're worried! Please be okay! _But the one he ended up keeping was one that put the biggest grin on his face out of all of them: _We'll never be able to win next year's sectionals without you! And not just because we won't have enough members! You're extremely talented, and a good person, and I'm honoured to know you, so you have to be okay! I'll give you Defying Gravity next year at school, I swear on the talent of Patti LuPone!_

He didn't know why, but he had a feeling she genuinely meant it, and that was amazing, for Rachel Berry. But he didn't want to take away _Defying Gravity_ from her just because she had been so worried; that felt rather underhanded. He'd suggest to her and Mr. Schue that they sing it as a duet. That would probably be best – and there was no need to tell her he threw the note. He did it for personal reasons he didn't want to share with the world at large. It would be enough for him to hit that high F in front of her, letting her know exactly what he was capable of.

The next bunch of texts were from this morning, and Kurt read through them – they were mostly proposals for dates and times to meet up. He went one by one, sending confirmations out, and plotting them on his calendar as he received replies. He stared, once he was done, at his phone's planner – his entire summer had pretty much just been booked up. And he'd never been more thrilled to have little, if any, spare time on his hands. Not a single bored moment to be had.

He heard his front door swing open and leaned back in his chair far enough to be able to watch as his dad came in, holding a box of doughnuts. "Hey Kurt . . . wow, did you just get out of bed, kiddo?"

Kurt looked down at himself, feeling the disgust creep back up – he'd been so absorbed reading the chronicles of his disappearance, and then planning out two months of his life, that he'd completely forgotten about taking a shower and changing. He plucked at his pyjama top, nose wrinkling when he caught a whiff of himself. _Ugh_, he felt absolutely _gross_.

"Actually, I've been up for almost an hour now," he said, putting his phone down and finishing off the last of his breakfast. "Mercedes left a little while ago. How come you're home?"

His dad came into the kitchen, leaving the doughnuts on the table. He opened the fridge door, disappearing from view as he dug around, taking out some packaged leftovers from a restaurant. "I decided to do lunch at home today. Wanted to spend some time with you."

Kurt grinned happily. "I guess my shower can wait for a little while longer."

His father sat down at the table, and Kurt tried not to grimace at the sight of him eating cold leftovers. "Yeah, well don't hold back on that for too long. You're kinda ripe."

Kurt pouted. "Gee, thanks dad."

His father nodded, quirking a half smile at him. Kurt stood up to wash his dishes and cup. He poured himself a glass of skim milk, grabbed a plain doughnut from the box (because really, every once in a while wouldn't kill him), and sat back down across from his dad. There was a comfortable silence until his father finished eating, then, "So, since I'm here, you wanna tell me what all that was about yesterday?"

Kurt sighed. "Oh, nothing, just me being a total teenager. I imagine this doesn't come as a surprise to you."

His dad raised an eyebrow. "Not really, no. But that was pretty strange and stupid of you not to take your phone – Carole said the thing is like an extension of your arm, and she's right. And where the hell were you for nine hours?"

He fiddled with his doughnut, and decided that if anyone should know, it would be his dad. "I was . . . well, I was driving, and I almost got into an accident with this deer –"

His father leaned forward abruptly. "Damn it, Kurt, why didn't you say so! You know that head injuries can be tricky things, and whiplash is nothin' to –"

"Dad!" Kurt mirrored his actions from the day before, grabbing onto his dad's hands the same way he had Mercedes'. "Dad, I'm fine! Neither the car nor I have a scratch on us. Calm down."

His father eyed him carefully before slouching back into his chair. "Okay, what happened after that? And please tell me you didn't fall down a well next, or nearly knock yourself out with the tire iron like you did that time when –"

"_Anyway_," Kurt overrode his dad. "I went for a walk to steady my nerves and . . . I found this stream. It kind of reminded me of those times we went camping, remember? With mom and . . . you would never let me swim by myself, or light the fire –"

"Until you were almost eight," his dad finished, smiling fondly. "Yeah, I remember. I didn't think you did though. The last time I suggested we go camping, you made this face like I'd suggested we go skinny dipping in a lake . . . in winter."

"That's because you suggested we go camping not within an actual campground, but in the middle of nowhere – with _shovels_ to make our own bathrooms." He shuddered. "I . . . I wouldn't mind going camping at the old place, though. Next to the stream."

His dad grinned widely. "That's a great idea – we can go one weekend this summer, just you and me, and maybe another weekend with Carole and Finn."

Kurt felt a burst of love for his father for suggesting they go together first. He seriously had one of the best dads in the world, hands down.

"So you spent the day swimming and stuff – that's fine, son, but you still haven't told me _why_."

Kurt shrugged, feeling embarrassment flourish anew as his face turned red. "I was being stupid. I thought I'd lost all my new friends, and . . . it made me depressed. So I took off to think and forgot my phone, and then . . . things just sort of took off from there. It was a random fluke of a day, dad. Nothing was planned and everything that happened felt out of my control. Except for realizing what an idiot I've been."

His dad shook his head. "Oh kiddo – you know, I'll be honest with you. I never really thought you'd be able to find good friends in this town. Not because you're not great," he rushed on to say, " 'cause you are – you're an amazing kid, an amazing person. But you gotta understand something about the people in this place, and I mean aside from the morons who don't know their ass from their face – and you'll find those anywhere and everywhere. I'm talkin' about the rest: they ain't so good with change . . . with things being different, and I think that's what you represent to them."

His father paused there, taking in a deep breath. "It made me feel like maybe we should move or somethin', to give you a chance to find somewhere you could fit in, but after your mom died, Kurt, I just . . . I couldn't leave the place that had her memories, you know? But I would've, if things had gotten any worse. I thought about it for a bit after that asshole called me up."

Kurt swallowed down tears. "You really thought of moving away from your hometown for me?"

His dad leaned over and ruffled his hair. Kurt didn't object because it was already messy to begin with and, right this second, he could let his father get away with anything.

"Kurt, the things I'm willing to do for you go way beyond a little move," his dad said intently before looking away. He adjusted his baseball cap and he cleared his throat. "And besides, you went and did the impossible, like you always do. You found Mercedes, and that Artie kid, and Tina. They're amazing, and special, just like you. I don't know how you found them, but you did. You're always proving me wrong, kiddo, in the best ways possible. Like with the football thing." A knowing smile was shot Kurt's way.

Kurt ducked his head, knowing that his face was flaming now, and that his eyes were watering.

"And then you join the national cheerleading champions, and sing that damn incredible solo that wins it for them again this year." He sounded so full of pride. "You've really got it made now, and I couldn't be happier. What in the hell made you think that none of this was real? It's all you, kiddo – you made it happen."

Kurt shook his head. "No, dad, _Glee_ made it happen. I don't think any of these people would've talked to me if it hadn't been for Glee club. Like Finn."

His father shrugged. "Okay, so maybe Glee club was the way in, but the rest of it is just you being you. And you know what? I have maybe one friend from high school that I'm still real close to, and a couple of others that I call now and again to go out for drinks. Most of my closest buddies are from college and work. I think you've struck the jackpot, Kurt – I think you've made the kind of friends that last a lifetime. I can't imagine you without Mercedes. And that Quinn girl now. And Finn's buddy, Puck, the one that got his girlfriend pregnant? I mean, they're talkin' again, and that isn't normal for teenagers, Kurt – not really."

Kurt didn't think he'd ever heard his dad say so much at one time. He didn't even know what to say in reply that could even come close – so he didn't say anything, just nodded and smiled his biggest, most genuine smile. His father smiled back before teasing him with, "I hope Mercedes gave you 'what for' for this."

Kurt reflexively reached for the back of his head. "Oh trust me, she did. Repeatedly."

His dad snorted once, satisfied. "You've found yourself a great group of kids. Well, that Puck kid is still questionable for me, but he can't be all bad if Finn likes him. And if Mercedes dated him."

Kurt decided not to go into great detail as to why Mercedes and Puck dated, or really anything else about Puck – especially considering what he was about to ask his dad. Now was as good a time as any.

"Actually, speaking of Puck – do you think it would be cool if he came around say . . . tomorrow, and I started teaching him a bit about cars? He's looking for another part-time job, and I would really appreciate it if you gave him a chance, dad." Kurt followed this up with his best, wide-eyed innocent expression, with only the barest hint of pleading – he wouldn't overdo it; he needed to leave something behind in his arsenal in case his father said no.

His dad sighed, rolling his eyes. "Cut that out. Fine. But you better keep a close eye on him. And if he gives me any attitude, he's out, you got me?"

"No problem – I'm doing this as a favour, but if he decides to blow it, I have no issue telling him to find employment elsewhere," Kurt said decisively.

His dad stood up, throwing the now empty package into the garbage. "Good to hear, Kurt. I have to head back to the garage now – do you mind if I take your SUV? The truck's AC is acting up again, and I don't feel like it fixing it – I think it might take more time than I have right now. Oh, and did I leave my sunglasses in your glove compartment? I couldn't find them in my truck."

"Maybe, I didn't see them there – but go ahead, I'm not going anywhere today except my own homemade spa." Kurt dragged his hands through greasy hair. _Blech, repulsive!_

His father rolled his eyes again. "Right, well, please don't overdo it with the water. Do you have any idea what my water bill looked like last month?"

Kurt glowered. "Excuse me? I am not the one who stays in the shower on my days off, and listens to not one, not two, but _three_ Mellencamp albums before I get out! On _my _portable iPod speakers, no less!"

"Nah, you just listen to that Gaggie chick until my ears bleed, and then proceed to use every last drop of hot water before most of us have woken up." Burt raised both his eyebrows at Kurt. "Wanna try and top that, kiddo? And please remember who bought you those speakers. And that car."

Kurt shrunk down into his seat. "Sorry. I'll see you later, dad."

His dad messed up his hair once more, grinning triumphantly. "See you later, Kurt."

And he walked off, leaving Kurt in a bit of a sulk, which was remedied when his phone rumbled. He grinned as he saw the happy text from Mercedes, inviting him out to a movie later that night, along with all the other girls.

It was hard to believe that at this time yesterday, he was out driving around, convinced that he had no friends, and no prospects for this summer.

Really things had . . . _wait a minute!_ Had his dad said he was going to dig around in the glove compartment? Where, if Kurt was not mistaken, and he _knew_ he wasn't, his boxer briefs were currently hidden? _Oh crap_.

He had no clue what kind of conclusions his father would leap to, seeing those there, but considering Kurt's luck, they would be the _worst_ possible ones. The kind that would end with Kurt locked in his basement for the rest of the summer, if not his entire teenage life, before he could even get a word in. And, oh God, if Mercedes got wind of this before Kurt could explain it to her, he would be getting so much more than a few whacks to the back of the head.

He leapt up from his chair, already hearing the roaring engine of his SUV, realizing it was likely far, far too late, and his life was ruined unless he could get to that glove compartment first, or explain it to his dad – maybe he'd take the truck over, pray that his father hadn't checked the glove box between now and then, and then sneak into the SUV and . . .

Kurt whipped open the door and, promptly, any thoughts about underwear, fathers, and cars, completely and utterly vacated his mind. Actually, all thought, of any kind, was rendered impossible. His mouth went dry. Which was sort of funny because he felt like, at any moment, he was going to wet himself.

There, standing in all her track-suited, terrifying glory, was Sue Sylvester.

He blinked stupidly up at her, his jaw slack.

She stared sternly down at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes, and her megaphone at her side. She bent close. "Hello, Lady Face."

Kurt squeaked.

She nodded as if that was the appropriate response. "This is your first summer spot check. Know that there will be more and I will not tell you how many or when. Fear is the best kind of motivator." She raised her megaphone. "_Wipe that milk mustache off your baby smooth skin and give me three cartwheels and a roundoff. Then I want you to give your best rendition of 'My Heart Will Go On' while doing them again. And after that, the real test begins!_"

Kurt was in motion before he even realized what was happening, and he begged inwardly for any of his fellow gleeks to show up right now. Really, what good were friends if they showed up only when you weren't actually in any danger?

"_Move it, Pear Hips! I want to see sweat, tears and possibly blood if you land wrong, because that's what you get for slacking off!_"

And Kurt was suddenly wishing, as he did cartwheels on his front lawn for a maniac with a megaphone, still smelling like a jock fresh from a game, and looking as disgusting as he possibly could without rolling around in the mud like a pig, that his summer could be, at least in this moment, a _little bit_ boring.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note: **Okay, _now _it's done. I hope this epilogue was to your satisfaction, **Cootisms, **since it was your fault I wrote it :) But really, thanks for the idea!

And the whole thing with Burt potentially (and I say potentially, because who knows if he finds it? Maybe Kurt's panicking for no reason? *smirks*) finding the underwear in the glove compartment was entirely **vcg73**'s doing. She said in a message, and I quote: _"Just hope he remembers to retrieve his other pair from the glove box before Burt goes looking for something in his truck and gets the wrong idea about how Kurt spent his day! ;)" _(I hope you don't mind me quoting you, **vcg73**)

And I hope you guys had fun with this and all the rest too! I'm thinking of writing a sequel that focuses on a few other gleeks, (which you may have gotten a hint of in the previous chapter), but I make no promises, since I'm leaving on vacation soon, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging! (Though, if I do end up writing a sequel or two, I promise to resolve the underwear thing ;) )

Again, you have all been great, and I appreciate everything: every favourite, every alert, every review and every reader! Thank you! :)

**EDIT: **And there's a sequel, called **For a Little While, **located on my profile.


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